Of Dungeon Bats and Loony Lovegood
by Shiroiyuki3
Summary: Done for the HPFC forum's 'I'd never write a story like that' challenge. Featuring Luna as a catalyst for a SS/HG Marriage Law Fic. Making friends with Luna will prove to be Snape's undoing. The biggest challenge I've taken on yet! Rating may change...
1. A Bride's Tale

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the Harry Potter series, owned by JKRowling. No characters used in this story belong to me.

Written for the "I'd never write a story like that" challenge on the HPFC forum. I decided to write a Marriage Law fic about Luna, as they are two genres I'd never write (until this challenge). One, I didn't think I'd pull it off, and two, because I've seen so many bad ones with no lead up...*shrugs*

Thanks for reading!

**Of Dungeon Bats and Looney Lovegood**

Chapter One: A Bride's Tale

It began the first week of May, when warm afternoons were spent in the company of trees, and the sweet perfume of growing grass hung thick in the air.

To a child, summer seemed to stretch on forever and a day. One could discover all the world's secrets in the wee hours of morning. Friendships swelled like the tide, bringing exotic promises of adventure and chocolate frog cards to share. Smiles could shame the brightest of sunny days. It was a magic all its own.

But she was no longer a child, at least not today, exchanging her student robes for a soft gown of lemon yellow.

Laying in the long arching grass of her garden, Luna Lovegood stared at the sky for what seemed an eternity, absently inventing mythical beasts out of the passing clouds. She'd never felt so completely lost. Curiously, she'd never felt so completely alive, either.

It was a strange sort of breathless day, where the busy hum of loved ones allowed the woman to sneak out unseen. They wouldn't notice her absence for quite some time, she mused, as anyone hardly did. The festivities weren't scheduled until tonight. Out the back door and down the wobblestone path Luna had somehow ended up here, a place she'd always felt so peaceful.

But staring too long at a dandelion puff had thrust her thoughts to a topic she couldn't quite explain.

Life, it seemed, was like a stream. Always flowing, always changing. Over the years _her_ stream had somehow turned rapid, only to come to an abrupt halt the day of her wedding. She was guilty of letting this happen, even in all her fanciful wanderings. Somehow she'd let time slip away, shifting from her path like seaweed on the ocean floor.

She couldn't blame it on the Ministry and their new Law, though no other reason currently occupied her mind. She couldn't blame it on Neville, dressing somewhere back at her father's rebuilt house, fretting over a button or his vest. Or maybe his tie. Luna fondly hoped he'd worn his blue tie with the white checkers; it brought out his eyes so well.

Neville had been rather good to her this last year when no other suitors had petitioned, and she only hoped to repay the favor one day.

"_Luna?"_

_The man sat down on the park bench next to where she read an upside down copy of the Quibbler. He looked rather serious, which the girl found odd._

"_Doesn't it worry you at all, not to have anyone lined up? We only have a few more weeks before the Ministry forces marriage upon us! I think I'll be miserable not knowing the girl beforehand." Neville shook his head at the desperation of it all, "To just know a name and a profile number? How do you start a marriage like that?"_

_Honestly, she hadn't thought about it at all. Luna shrugged and said as much._

"_You are much braver than I am, you know?" Neville smiled appreciatively, almost warmly. There was something brewing behind those brown eyes, "I think it's amazing you are taking this all in stride. I've spent this last week pacing my room instead of sleeping; staring at my food instead of eating...not knowing the answer was right in front of me the whole time." _

_He blushed and fought a smile, brushing some blond hair from the girl's face._

_She smiled back, happy to get such a nice compliment. She was pretty sure he meant to give her a compliment at least. He did look a bit thin to her now that she thought on it, and his eyes weren't as bright as they had been in the past, but the woman didn't say anything. The two had spent the better part of this last year together as the wizarding world slowly recovered from the war. She'd seen Neville through thick and thin, literally and figuratively. To Luna, what the man looked like couldn't matter less – he was her best friend._

"_Listen, Luna –" Neville stood unexpectedly, turning to look at her. With a slow nervous hand he took her magazine and laid it down on the bench beside her._

"– _there's...there's something I'd like to ask you. I hope you don't laugh."_

_He suddenly looked like an old man, finding the grass beneath his shoe very interesting._

"_I wouldn't laugh, Neville. Not unless you made a joke, and even then I'm not quite sure."_

_Luna's voice had stirred his confidence and he slowly knelt down and tried his best to smile. Every gesture was hesitant, as if moving too fast would scare her away. Only his eyes seemed to radiate that confidence the man had acquired during this last year. They focused on solely her, an unasked question lingering in their brown depths._

"_We've gotten to know each other quite well; this year has been wonderful –" he took her hand, which she willingly gave. "– I've enjoyed your company so much, Luna."_

"_Yes, I'd rather thought it was nice, too," said Luna serenely, " Especially our trip to Hogsmeade." _

_When his finger started making small circles in the palm of her hand, she smiled brightly and forgot what she was saying. _This_ was the Neville she remembered. He looked so happy and calm. She smiled brighter, knowing she'd somehow made him forget his worries. His next words both scared and made her day, for reasons she couldn't quite explain._

"_Luna, would you marry me?"_

Though such a union was born of convenience, Luna felt her heartstrings tighten at the memory. If the wind had blown just a bit harder, or she had waited just a bit too long to answer, he would have been shattered. Neville gave her the courtesy of looking the part of a love-struck bachelor. It was a very thoughtful performance.

She went back to shaping clouds with her fingers.

"Do you think Neville will be happy?" The woman inquired of a passing toad, burrowing further into the arm lightly tucked beneath an ear.

"We picked out teacups and saucers already, you know. They have the sweetest purple flowers. Neville says purple is the nicest color, though I'm rather fond of yellow."

Luna's mind wandered. It was no good to have teacups and saucers without a service tray. Perhaps the two newlyweds would get one as a gift. Perhaps they'd grow to love one another as more than just friends, drinking tea in the light streaming through their lacy curtains. Perhaps she'd buy lacy curtains.

Perhaps Neville would be happy. Perhaps then she'd be happy, too.

The toad didn't seem to care either way, hopping out of sight beneath a nearby bush.

Just in case something extraordinary might happen she'd made sure to wear her favorite radish earrings today. Faith told her it was just a matter of when and where. Luna ran her finger over one of them for a bit, pondering over how much she'd miss childhood.

Absently she followed a butterfly with her eyes, loving the way its yellow wings pushed through the air. How free it was, she thought sadly, flittering between flowers. A butterfly could wander without worry, while she would soon be wed –

It was then Luna noticed something rather odd that made her to lose sight of that butterfly and sit bolt upright.

She'd seen it dancing amongst the burstberry bushes and whippersnaps in the furthest corner of her garden, watching her just as eagerly as she had it. With a soft plop the creature landed on a nearby leaf, spreading its metallic blue wings out in a low, important bow. The woman smiled.

"Are you a fairy, little one?"

Luna didn't have the heart to wait for its answer as she stood, brushing her gown free of grass. One last adventure beckoned, one last moment to be a child. The vision of purple flowers on china billowed in her mind for a brief moment, but the woman pushed it aside.

"Have you been waiting all this time?"

The tiny creature slowly hoped from leaf to leaf as if offering temptation, pausing to let the woman keep up. Past the garden wall of bluebells and forget-me-nots Luna's bare feet roamed, down the hilly meadow, along the small brook and its bank of smooth stones. She mimicked the blue fairy as it disappeared into the woods just beyond her father's house.

All of a sudden those radish earrings seemed to tingle with excitement. All of a sudden Luna couldn't remember why she was wearing a gown at all...


	2. A Dead Man’s Tale

**Of Dungeon Bats and Loony Lovegood**

Chapter 2: A Dead Man's Tale

It began the first week of May, when long hot days and sweaty nights seemed to drain what little patience the man had left. Summer never proved to be a particularly enjoyable season but today of all days dragged on rudely.

It was the oh-so-happy anniversary of his death. For all intents and purposes at least, as he never quite died.

Grass had to be cut and his balding lawn withered from the mere suggestion. The one tree stupid enough to grow on this forsaken lot looked worse off than the yellowing weeds, and with a tired glance the man decided this was the year he'd finally kill it.

He watched a goat run across the ugly sod below much to his chagrin, only to give a nasty bleat when it reached the dirty window. The man grimaced as it gritted its teeth up at him. He hated that goat; the blithering little beast was meaner than a badger with a hernia. And its unsightly presence only meant one thing.

He had a visitor.

Rolling his eyes irritably, Severus Snape took leave of his small greasy window and swept to the main room. He could imagine why that man would come today, and his insides twisted with anger from the thought. Snape knew any second his unwelcome guest would be banging to be let in, unruly and scruff-bearded with eyes so familiar they practically burned. Snape hated that man more than the goat and it wasn't just the smell that accompanied.

Just as promised, there soon came a very hasty knock at his narrow door.

"Snape, get dressed."

Aberforth quickly stepped around the dark figure in the doorway, completely oblivious to the fact he was already clad in black robes and cape. His goat followed obediently, pausing to glare up at the man and show some gums.

"The Ministry has finally decided to conduct a trial for the Death Eaters whose allegiances are still in the grey. We need to send word to that boy –"

Perhaps it was the menacing look on Severus' face, or the fact that the room had suddenly dropped several degrees in temperature, but the old man stopped talking and gawked at him.

"Oh no. _No_. We ain't gonna to do this again, Snape." Aberforth declared after a moment's war with that mask of a face, "You know it's time."

Severus let the door close a bit too forcefully and glowered.

"There is no reason to enlighten the world of my survival – especially not _Potter_," his silky reply was so low it practically rumbled through the room.

"Besides, I've been enjoying death."

The old man snickered doubtfully. His goat gave a spiteful bleat before staining the floor a new shade of ugly. Snape regarded this creature as one would a steaming pile of rubbish and made a mental note to poison its food bag the next chance he got.

"In this dump?" Aberforth snickered, shaking his head. "Look around you – not even a dead man would enjoy it here. Well, maybe a _really_ dead man would. It certainly _smells_ as if something has died while enjoying itself..."

"Perhaps it suits me."

"Perhaps you'd do well to get dressed and come along. You owe me this, even _if_ it's what that brother of mine wanted."

Snape sharply crossed the dilapidated floor, straightening himself to his most threatening height.

"A year, Aberforth! For a year I've done exactly what you've asked – kept to myself, kept the world in the dark. I allowed you to host that...that mock funeral in my tribute. I owe you nothing."

"Nothing but your life!"

The old man wasn't intimidated. He sat down rather briskly on a nasty looking couch and suggested with a wave of his hand that Snape do the same.

"Mind you, I hadn't the slightest clue what my brother was asking at first, going to that rundown shack – with a bezoar of all things – but I did it. Could have been his life savings waiting down there for me. Maybe the potion was in case something should bite.

"Thought the world revolved around him, you know. Knowing his arrogance, several terrible curses could have been waiting." The man gave a stiff huff.

"It would have been the least that bloody fool could have done, leaving me the key to his Gringotts vault or somesuch. Imagine my surprise when I found your rotting corpse instead.

"Didn't even have the good sense to die, did you Snape? But, nevertheless, you owe me your life."

"Which I've since repaid," Snape was all too eager to remind him, grudgingly taking a seat on a creaky old chair. "I have no interest to recover my place in society, whatever place that may have been. I care little for expunging my record."

For a long moment the two stared daggers at one another in silence. Aberforth really didn't care either way if Snape stayed boarded up like some forgotten animal, and they both knew it. But for some odd reason, the old man was still following his dead brother's orders.

"You know," Aberforth pressed on again, a hint of lofty confidence filling his voice, "the Ministry has been quite innovative these last few months, passing laws that affect a large chunk of our population."

He paused for the briefest of moments to make sure the man was keeping up.

"Imagine if they found out such an _eligible bachelor_ was alive and well, and without prospects at that."

"Aberforth –" Snape warned dangerously, standing.

The old man suppressed a smirk but continued as if nothing was wrong.

"It's common knowledge that stuffy old Potions Professors are in want of a good wife. I'm sure they'd find you someone suitable. Though with your luck, she'll have gimpy legs, warts, and hair on her _back_ instead of her head. Your children should be lovely, all things considered."

He indicated with a mean eye the very large and unsightly nose taking up most of the other man's face, and shrugged.

"Or perhaps they'll deem reproducing irresponsible and simply throw you in Azkaban. I hear it's quite nice this time of year, what with the fetid stench of death and everything.

"Dementors are quite friendly I've heard, always trying to kiss you..."

"Aberforth –"

Snape was losing and he knew it. He considered his options, eyes glinting with malice behind a greasy wall of black hair. He could always kill this man and bury him beneath that ugly tree in his backyard. Severus wondered how long he'd have before the Ministry caught on to such a crime. The magic would echo all the way back to them surely, and in a house where the only wizard was supposedly dead, that would certainly raise some flags.

An hour, a day. Long enough to leave, in any rate. But did he actually want to leave?

He could always find some muggle means of disposing of the body...

After a time Severus scowled something fierce and relented. He did owe a debt to this man, despite how much he hated to admit it. Even the nastiest of gits have an honor system.

"If spreading my life's work before the hungry eyes of the Ministry is what you truly want – we shall alert Potter to do so.

"But no one else is to know of my survival. This is a posthumous recognition; I will not stand to be hounded by the press or proclaimed a hero to my face.

"I desire no medals, no fanfare. My slate shall be wiped clean, my debt to you repaid, and then I can go about my life in solitude. I do not expect to see you again after today and I certainly have no wish to be married. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Aberforth nodded, pretending to care. He knew bloody well Snape would never be proclaimed a hero. Even if exonerated as a martyr for the cause. The man was just too sour of a bastard for such things.

The old wizard stood and gave a gruff nod.

"Good you've seen the light."

"Indeed."

Snape crossed his arms bitterly, reality hitting him like cold water in an empty stomach. Soon his cozy existence would be uprooted, Potter would know he lived. How the man sincerely wished he hadn't in this moment. He knew damn well his desires would not be carried out; Potter had a bigger mouth than that furry devil, Hagrid.

When neither man moved, Snape gave an unpleasant sneer.

"If it's all the same with you I'd rather get this over with. Owl the boy already."

"No need," Aberforth was already at the door, his goat fast behind him. He smiled as if he had something up his sleeve and gave a haughty glance back. "I've already requested he be at the Hog's Head today at noon."

Snape stared at the old man incredulously. Though certainly lacking the polished style of his brother, Aberforth had mastered the family knack for manipulation. If at all possible, Severus suddenly missed the former.

"Let's shove off shall we, Snape? Only ten minutes before the boy arrives; can't dawdle."


	3. A Bride’s Maid’s Tale

**Of Dungeon Bats and Loony Lovegood**

Chapter 3: A Bride's Maid's Tale

_Once upon a summer the girl wished to be a dentist. _

_She'd stare at her big teeth in the mirror with a plan to fix them just as well as Mummy and Daddy did for other children. 'As if by magic' her Grandma once told her, a phrase which would make a home for itself in her heart. _

_She loved her parents more than anything in the world – more than ice cream, more than fairytales and all the toys she'd ever played with or wanted. More than the color pink and the pretty little ribbons Nanny put in her hair. _

_And more than anything Hermione wanted to feel accepted and loved, which two hardworking parents seemed to overlook. _

_One day after a missed trip to the zoo, the girl lay crying on her bed, Mummy's card and penned love clutched in a wet hand. This was the third time that week something at the office had come up and now not even Nanny could soothe the girl's tears. That's when Lulu her doll had floated from across the room in a gesture of comfort. The exchange was quite strange, Hermione noted for a brief moment, but she was so sad it didn't matter._

_Soon afterward more unexplained things happened. Tea cups would raise themselves at her miniature parties, cake would somehow find its way to her room. She'd play games on Nanny all day long, it was so fun! Mummy and Daddy would be very proud when they found out, she was sure. They might even remember her birthday this year._

_But Mummy looked scared when she finally saw her daughter's gift, and Hermione grew angry at all these wonderful things. She cried when her dolls would come over; she broke all her tea cups in despair. _

_When a certain letter arrived on the eve of her eleventh birthday the girl felt a sudden throb of hope, misery, and excitement all in one. Mixed up in this new opportunity to prove her worth, she'd learn to misplace the need for acceptance and love onto others and become an overachiever, watching the resentment burrow deeper in the eyes of her parents, fearing their little girl was becoming some sort of...some sort of...._

"Freak!"

Hermione stared at her reflection for quite some time, scanning the bright yellow gown with a look of revulsion.

Among its more _modest_ oddities were several large misshapen bows of random placement, with the sole purpose (as far as the woman could tell) of ensuring the thing was ugly as sin. With hideous ruffled puff sleeves and a clumsy neckline, this satin disaster was definitely not going to be featured in Witch Weekly anytime soon.

"I look like I was raped by a Peep." Hermione muttered hopelessly, lifting the layered hem as if it were a dirty diaper.

Laughter revealed another girl standing in the doorway behind her, similarly dressed in a much more understated version. Her red hair and pale skin contrasted poorly with the color, giving her rather ashy face a look of being tired. She folded her arms appraisingly and leaned against the frame.

"Nah, I'd say it's definitely you. I especially like that massive bow on the back. You never had so many curves."

Ginny snorted when Hermione turned frantically to the side, a look of sheer terror spread upon her face. She groaned desperately.

"Remind me again why I'm doing this."

"Because you're Luna's Maid-of-Honor; we _like_ Luna, keep repeating that to yourself."

The redhead crossed the room and helped adjust Hermione's gown, making her dress sit in a less awkward manner. The woman's butt still looked lumpy and deformed but not quite as frighteningly large.

"Please don't dress me like this for your wedding," Hermione pleaded with the mirror version of her friend.

When Ginny took a good second to respond, the woman's anxiety doubled. She made to turn but Ginny held her shoulders still.

"Don't worry, Hermione – your dress won't be quite as bad as this one. Harry would never allow it." Just when a sigh of relief escaped, Ginny continued. "It'll be pea green and have this big gold sash down the—"

"—Ginny!"

"Joking!"

The woman patted Hermione's shoulder as if sending her to a death most unfortunate, and shook her head.

"Just don't linger and people won't notice how terrible you look."

"Thanks."

When she had first agreed to be the Maid-of-Honor, Hermione should have known what it would entail. Merlin knew Luna had an odd sense of fashion. The woman just never imagined it would come to _this_.

As Ginny helped brush through her mop of curls, Hermione grimaced. She looked awful. Truly, truly awful.

"Ron was looking for you earlier," Ginny snagged a knot and winced at Hermione's hiss of pain. She stopped long enough to catch a baleful glance, "Sorry. Didn't you brush this after you got out of the shower?"

'No' was the answer floating around Hermione's head as she weakly gave a nod. She was never one to mind her hair. Curiously though, the woman never felt more relieved to have such a bird's nest as she did in this very moment. It provided much-needed distraction.

"Anyway, I wish you'd quit torturing my poor brother and go talk to him already. He's been after your case for almost a month now."

Hermione sighed, unable to meet the humorless eyes of her friend in the mirror. She just couldn't face Ron right now, not when his brain was so polluted by this new Marriage Law. The woman had made an effort to busy herself with anything and everything she could to keep avoiding him, and up until today that plan had gone pretty well. Luna's wedding, however, meant they'd be walking down the aisle together one way or another.

Ginny gave her a severe look over.

"You aren't seeing someone else, are you?"

When at last Hermione knew she couldn't dodge the topic any longer, something wonderful happened.

"Oh thank Merlin I've found you girls!"

The abrupt interruption caused both to jump and turn toward the door. A very distraught Molly panted onto the frame, catching her breath and waving away their assistance with an impatient hand.

"Mum?"

"Haven't seen Luna have you girls?"

Ginny exchanged a confused look with Hermione then shook her head.

"Not since this morning. She should be dressing in her room, I'd imagine."

"She's nowhere to be had," the woman confessed, rubbing her temple with a hand. "Went to check on her, find out if the dear needed any help getting into that...that _gown_. She wasn't there. I've raked the house from top to bottom.

"Not even in the garden."

For a brief moment Hermione almost rejoiced in knowing she wouldn't have to walk down the aisle dressed like a creampuff. But she imagined that would be in poor taste and rubbed an arm in shame.

"Harry," Ginny suddenly burst, catching the other two women off guard.

She shot an encouraging look toward Hermione, who had no comfort to give and shrugged. In a moment of frustrated eye rolling mishmash she elaborated, "He had to stop at Hogsmeade before the ceremony. I bet she's with him."

"Hogsmeade?" Molly repeated incredulously, a sudden stab of anger erasing any anguish she may have felt. "A bride just leaving the day of her wedding to go run around town with another man?"

For Molly this was definitely a first. She had to sit and learn to breathe again. After a fashion, she discovered her hair was mussed and her gown desperately needed pressing and made a mental note of all the chores still needing attention around the house. She sniffled deeply at the hopelessness of it all.

"And Neville, what of that poor boy? Oh Merlin, he's been left at the altar..."

"Mum –" Ginny shook her head quickly, "there's no need to get him upset. Luna is coming back; she's got to be with Harry. I'm sure of it!"

"That's right," said Hermione, finally finding her voice.

It sounded quite awkward as it interrupted this exchange but she pressed on anyway.

"You know Luna, always finding herself in odd places." She forced a weak smile, "I'm sure she's with Harry, too. We shouldn't panic and we definitely shouldn't get anyone else panicking."

Molly gave a small nod, hugging a handkerchief she had only just transfigured.

"I hope you both are right. I just have this horrible feeling something is wrong."


End file.
